The Metafiction Paradox
by LunaticKing
Summary: Joker knows that he's a fictional character, despite how real everything seems to the rest and even to him, he is constantly retaining memories of each alternate universe and situation. Desperate to make others understand and see this he goes out of his way to show them. Even so much to get close to Batman. Really close... Batjokes Fluff and Harley abuse


"It was always going to come to this, Bats," Joker assured as he side stepped away from the detective's advancement, the heel of his hard sole winged tipped shoes balancing dangerously on the edge of the weather aged bricks of the building. "I'm not going out like a flame running out of oxygen, Bruce." He used Batman's name for the first time, and for a second it made Bruce hesitate. A fleeting pass in his mind wondered just how long Joker had known.

"You don't have to do it like this, Joker. I can help you." Bruce promised, keeping his voice disguised like always despite Joker's awareness. His advancement was echoed by another sidestepped retreat by Joker, his balance faltering a little on the ledge.

"You _really_ don't get it, do you Bats?" Joker scoffed, his right hand still holding onto the detonator he was holding down. This time he would do it right, this time, there would be no out. This time, he was holding a deadman's switch. "It doesn't matter what I do, it always resets." He went on, sidestepping away again. "Why don't you see it?" He asked, a sick desperation in his voice as he raised his eyebrows. "It doesn't matter how it ends...or how it starts...the _point_ is that it _always_ restarts." He couldn't count how many times he had tried to show or explain this to Bruce on his hands anymore.

"Joker, that doesn't make any sense," Batman growled, watching as his suit evaluated every possible outcome of trying to take out the Joker without killing them both. "We all only get one chance. One chance and that's it." He spoke in his own fearful desperation, he didn't want Joker to die. Despite all the crap the maniac had put him through Bruce couldn't bare to see him take his life, it just wasn't right. Nothing about the past few months seemed right, and yet here he was, actually sad in a loving kind of way that Joker had bombs strapped to him as he played balancing beams on top of the Pandora building. It was sick and twisted that Joker had managed to get him to care about him in this way.

"I've been trying to show you that isn't true, Bruce!" The bomb-clad psychopath yelled back, wind whipping his combed back green hair around wildly and catching his purple trench coat. His steps faltered but he caught himself and took his revolver from the holster on his side as a warning when Batman stepped forward in panic. "We're destined to do this forever, you and I." He started. "It doesn't matter if I die, or if you die...it all resets...like a god damn cuckoo-clock." He wasn't aware of how crazy he sounded to Bruce, because he had a heightened sense of awareness that Bruce did not.

"Please stop this!" Bruce yelled back against the sound of the wind whipping his cape. "You don't make any sense you're sick, Jay." Now he was using the name Joker told him to, stepping closer only to have Joker fire a warning shot at his arm.

"Don't!" He warned. "I'll blow us both up," Joker warned, fidgeting his thumb on the button as if to taunt Bruce. "I just want to show you, Bruce." He insisted. "I just want to show you that we can do whatever we want." He had said that line so many times in the past that he was on the verge of giving up. "Open your eyes, Bruce." He said, stepping backward into thin air.

Freefalling through the cold whipping wind Joker's coat framed him like a hammock as his hair experienced anti-gravity in a wild dance of chaos. The vest of bombs was brightly colored by design, laced with colorful wires and painted with bright neon green, orange, blue and pink. Some of the bombs held shrapnel like nails and shards of glass while others held confetti and joker playing cards and a few contained materials that would go off like fireworks. By his design, Joker would go out with a colorful and flamboyant bang. Vivid green eyes watched as Batman leaped from the building and tucked his cape so he could fall like an arrow. But Joker would not let Bruce have the satisfaction of saving him this time. This time, he would show him that he was right and Bruce was wrong. Closing his eyes he smiled and began to slip his thumb from the button only to have Batman's fist close around his and force him to keep holding the button.

"No Joker," Batman growled, eyes angry behind his cowl as he wrapped his legs around Joker and reached to pull a handle on his suit fast before holding onto Joker more firmly. But it was clear in the panic and fear in Bruce's eyes that whatever the handle was meant to do had not happened as they plummeted to the earth. And Joker couldn't help but laugh, watching their rippling reflection plummet past the windows of the building as they fell. He was upset that he wouldn't go out in a colorful explosion of blood, gore, confetti and fireworks...but at least, this time, he would have Bats with him. The impact brought immediate death for both of them. Batman from sheer impact, and Joker from the impact causing detonation. The only thing left of Joker was his right arm holding onto the detonator, connected to Batman's extended arm as fireworks popped and fizzed and confetti showered the nightlife with color and gore.

Joker wiped the single tear from his cheek where it began to drip with one of his white-gloved hands, watching as Harley swore at the television with a game remote in her hand. Wishing he could beat whoever had the controller to this never ending game he and Batman were playing to death, he kicked Harley in the back of the head with the heel of his hard sole shoe and snapped at her to turn the game down. It was one of the many games they had pilfered from the mall a week ago, or maybe it had been longer than that. He couldn't be certain. Every reset was a Russian roulette when it came to where he would end up. Sometimes there were weeks or months missing as he was pushed to the future and other times he was given the upper hand and dropped in the past. This time, he was three days in the future, as he determined from a quick glance at his cellphone. It wasn't uncommon for the reality he was dropped back into to change completely either, so when he rose to his feet and was greeted by the whoop yip of three hyena's alerted at his motions he was almost startled. Apartment. Hyenae. Blonde Harley...Harlequin one piece draped over a kitchen chair...he found a mirror. Stretched smile with scars, wild comb-back that seemed to stand up more than it wanted to lay down.

"What's wrong, puddin'?" Harley asked in her annoying Boston whine of a voice, pausing the game and looking to Joker. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Harley, not now. Not when he had the Bat on his mind so strongly. "Puddin'...?" Harley asked meekly and fearfully, shrinking into herself at the sight of Joker's gun pointing directly at her. The hammer hit an empty chamber, and then again. The third fire hit a round that popped out a brightly colored flag that read 'BLAM', much to Joker's disappointment.

"Just testing my count." He assured her, dropping it to the floor and giving her a handsome smile.

"You...you never reloaded it." She muttered, hugging her knees.

"Hence why I was aiming at you." He lied, heading to the kitchen. Some realities would let him kill her while others would make it nearly impossible to pull it off. And no matter how hard he tried to think outside of the box about ridding himself of her whoever had control was always one step ahead and prevented it. It was sort of entertaining sometimes to see just how far the powers that be would let him go before they stopped him. And so she suffered abuse until his plans at removing her from his life like an annoying smudge on a mirror were halted. "If killing myself to make a point doesn't work...then I'll just have to get closer to Bruce." He thought to himself as he drank from the orange juice carton. "I've gotten close before...now it's time to get even closer. _Uncomfortably close_." He decided, putting the juice back and heading to his desk. "First we have to get his attention..." He muttered out loud as he sat down and lost himself in planning.


End file.
